


Surreptitious

by Socket



Category: The Witches - Roald Dahl
Genre: Gen, Roald Dahl - Freeform, The Witches - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socket/pseuds/Socket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grandma retires to her room, feeling tired. There was something in the tea… she’s sure there was something in the tea…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surreptitious

**Author's Note:**

> _This vignette is my response to a sequence in the film that made little sense to me (and switches from second person to first half way through - what can I say? The muse works in mysterious ways)._

It was after teatime. Luke was somewhere about the hotel, no doubt teaching Mary and William some new trick. She envied her grandsons energy; she had been that young once and as much as she loves Luke, he reminds her of her frailty. 

She retired to her room, she was feeling tired. Something in the tea… she’s sure there was something in the tea… but she’s too tired to think... and she’s certain she recognised that woman in the foyer. She looked familiar… there’s a vague recollection in her memory banks but it’s as if the memory has been blocked… and she feels so tired. 

She steps into the hotel room and moves towards the bed. She slips her shoes off and instantly feels another presence. She stands quickly and turns but feels dizzy. 

“Who’s there?” she demands. 

No one answers and the room begins to sway… but she’s sure she’s not alone. 

“Hello, old woman,” says a voice. 

It fills her with terror. It’s a voice from her past. 

“You…” she mumbles and feels herself crumble against the bed. She can’t locate the voice; it seems to be coming from all around her and there's nothing she can do... 

************

I feel her close to me, she is pleased that I recognised her. How could I not? And it’s all making sense to me now… I feel myself slip onto the mattress, I must sleep. She’s plotting something and I know I must fight her but I’m too exhausted. My eyelids close. 

She leans over me and whispers. “I told you I’d get you… one day.” 

Then I feel her lips press against my cheek. It’s a kiss filled with triumph and an underlying sadness – as if she enjoyed having an adversary in the world and is almost sorry to end me. 

With my remaining strength, I reach out and draw her close to me. She gasps at the unexpectedness of it. I can’t open my eyes but I can see her face. 

“It’s not over yet,” I whisper. “Next time…” 

She rakes a gloved hand over my forehead, pushing the hair away and says. “There is no next time.” 

I want to say something more… want to hold her here. My grip on her loosens and I feel myself slip into a world of nightmares and witches. She is everywhere. She always has been.


End file.
